Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,58
trying to get them back, and Percy blocked me.”
“Sweetheart”—Ruthie placed her cup in her saucer just so—“Percy can’t possibly block your magics. You’re simply too powerful. Was it iron?”
“Iron? I have no idea. Why?”
“Witches can’t manipulate anything with a lot of iron in it.”
“Like that iron bar,” Annette said “Not that I would know since I wasn’t there.”
“I just assumed with your charmling status,” Ruthie continued, “that rule wouldn’t apply to you.” She bowed her head in thought. “Interesting.”
Annette and I looked at each other. “Did you know about the iron thing?” I asked her. She was much more knowledgeable about all things witchery than I was.
She put down her cup. “Yes and no. I mean, there are a ton of myths surrounding different metals with different preternatural beings.”
“Like werewolves and silver,” I said.
We exchanged glances again.
Her gray irises glistened. “You totally have to test Roane.”
“Yeah, but I can’t shoot him with a silver bullet. That just seems wrong after everything he’s done for us.”
Annette nodded. “Okay, well, how about stabbing him with a silver letter opener?”
“Oh, hey, that might do it.”
“Like just a little poke. Don’t go in all the way.”
“That’s what she said.” My BFF so walked into that.
We burst out laughing. And at some point in the conversation, I realized I was delirious with all the adrenaline dumps and a general lack of sleep. I needed to state my case quickly and find my bed. So, back to the complaining. “Second,” I said, “he tried to stop me from leaving the house. That’s called false imprisonment, by the way, and it’s illegal.” I glared at Percy, wherever he may be.
Ruthie laughed softly. “I believe he was doing what he does best.”
“Kidnapping?”
“Trying to keep you out of harm’s way.”
“Ruthie, I am not a child.”
“Then act like it,” she said, seeming to get irked herself.
“Wow,” I said, taken aback. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“You should never have left this house alone if you knew it could be dangerous. You are not immortal, Defiance.”
“It was late.” I regurgitated the same excuse I’d been using all night. “I didn’t want to wake anyone. How could I have known it would be dangerous?” And what kind of tea had she made because I was feeling a bit woozy.
“Your magics will guide you in all things. You must learn to trust them.”
“Well, it was still late. Percy didn’t have a right to wake people up on my account.”
She wasn’t buying it. “Do you know why Roane is here?”
“Because I turned him into a shapeshifter so he could escape his murderous father?”
“No, after that.”
“Because he ran away from home, and you found him?”
“No. I found him for the same reason he’s here.”
“Is this spiked?” I pointed to the tea, getting sleepier.
“He’s here to protect you, Defiance. That is literally his job.”
“I thought his job was to fix Percy’s pipes?”
“That sounded so kinky.” Annette giggled.
I giggled, too, and felt more than a little loopy. “Is there something in this tea?” I asked again.
“Of course not,” Ruthie said. “It’s just chamomile.
“You dosed me?” I asked, appalled.
Her expression flatlined. “You haven’t slept, and you used your powers.”
“I knew it!” Annette said.
“Naturally, you’re going to feel a little woozy.”
“I don’t have any powers,” I insisted, stubborn to the bitter end as my dads would say. “So, you pay Roane to stick by my side?”
“Yes. Well, no. That’s not what I meant.”
“He’s a gigolo?” I asked, double appalled this time.
Annette rested her head on her arm. “Have you guys done it already?” Her words were slurred.
And I was the lightweight. Either chamomile worked way better than I thought, or Ruthie had tossed in a little rum for good measure. Except, usually, my BFF could drink me under the table. I would have to talk to Percy about him waking everyone up for no reason. It was taking a toll.
“Deph.” Nette looked up from her arm and made a crude gesture.
“No, we haven’t done it.”
“Then he’s not a very good gigolo.”
“Ha!” I laid my arm across the table, too, rested my head on it, facing her, and whispered, “He’s spectacular.”
That hit her like a shot of espresso. She jerked upright. “You did him?”
I straightened, too, only slower. “Not exactly. More like he did me.”
“I probably shouldn’t hear this,” Ruthie said, then stayed right where she was and listened intently.
“And you didn’t tell me?” Annette draped her body over the table again. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.” Her last words faded out as her eyes drifted shut.